


Lest We Forget

by WolfAndHound_Archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Mystery, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 15:28:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5933359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfAndHound_Archivist/pseuds/WolfAndHound_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry visits a memorial</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lest We Forget

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Lassenia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Wolf and Hound](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Wolf_and_Hound), which was created to make stories posted to the Sirius_Black_and_Remus_Lupin Yahoo! mailing list easier to find. However, even though I still love the fandom, I am no longer active in it and do not have the time to maintain it. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in December 2015. I posted an announcement with Open Doors, but we may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Wolf and Hound collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wolfandhound/profile).

Harry pulled the collar of his heavy dark red cloak up to his ears as he stepped out of the side door leading into Hogwarts herb gardens. Hitching his small pack strap higher on his left shoulder, he took a moment to allow the scents and colors of the late spring gardens to sooth him. Harry's heart and mind were sore and troubled, though, and the usually calming gardens did little to mitigate the pain in his heart. Holding back a sigh, he walked quickly though the gardens until he reached the gate in the old stone wall at the garden's perimeter.

The wall ran around the base of the mountain behind the castle, gates punctuating it in several places as it did here. Most of the students never bothered to wonder where the gates and paths lead, since the paths were steep and rough, and the gates seldom open. It was, Harry reflected, easy to forget that Hogwarts was built halfway up a mountain. He turned as he opened the gate to look out over the gardens, the lawns, the lake and the forest.

Beautiful. The school was a beautiful sight in the late afternoon sun. It was here at the school his mother and father had met and loved, here the Marauders became friends, here that he met Ron and Hermione, here he learned to love Ginny. It was here they all came to learn and grow and somehow managed to absorb a sense of honor and integrity and courage.

It was here that Sirius and Remus...

There was a stillness to the air, not quite a note of expectancy, not quite a sense of waiting. The closest he could come to describing the effect was a hush. The castle and grounds, indeed Hogsmeade itself, were practically deserted - nearly everyone would be gathering for the evenings' celebrations and ceremonies at Godric's Hollow. He would be there, too, but first he had a visit to make and a task to perform.

Harry turned again to face the gate, running a forefinger over the copper nameplate set into the gate's left hand post - Hallow's Gate. The plate, the posts, the gate, all were hand hewn, as if the act of creating by hand could consecrate the work far more than anything magic could do. Setting his hand to the gate, he swung it open and passed through. Once more hitching the sliding strap up and into a more comfortable position, Harry began to climb.

He never noticed he was not alone.

~~~~~~~

Harry climbed the steep path steadily, paying little attention to his surroundings, concentrating inwardly on his grief, outwardly simply on placing his feet carefully. He well knew that the journey to the Hallows was designed to evoke certain responses, a particular mind set. He much preferred his anger and grief to any peace he might possibly obtain.

Certain things simply should not happen. His life was full of these things. His parents death, Cedric's death. Sirius and Remus'...

The steps, made of slate and set in by hand, were shallow and broad enough to allow four large fully grown men to climb side by side - or two men carrying a large heavy object between them. For all his needless care, they caused Harry no difficulty, and he made short work of the climb.

Fifteen minutes after he'd started, Harry left the stone steps and followed the path through a small stand of beautiful old oak. The trees intensified the hush that had followed Harry from the school - they seemed almost guardians, sentinels protecting the sacred place beyond from the irreverent, from intruders. Leaving the trees, Harry walked perhaps another fifty feet to stop before a curved half-circle of overlapping standing stones, stones perhaps 12 or 15 feet in height, roughly cut from native granite, each weighing several tons. No stone stood at the center, leaving an entrance to the half circle, while each side continued on to the edge of the cliff, only blue sky and sunshine beyond its' edge.

Harry felt a pressure on his mind, almost if he were being examined, though not unkindly, and he found himself remembering his purpose in being here. The pressure ceased as quickly as it began, and, released, Harry walked forward and into the circle.

The path ended abruptly at the entrance. The half circle, perhaps a hundred feet in diameter, was carpeted in lush velvety grass, its' stones' backs draped with trailing ivy vines, Lilies of the Valley growing at their feet. At the base of the half circle, its' length parallel to the cliff's edge sat a stone oblong, polished and black, too low for an altar, too high for a bench, a thin film of clear water, seemingly appearing from nowhere, running from its center, pouring over its' sides and back into the seeming nowhere.

Harry had never been here before. Although every student at Hogwarts knew of its existence, few were ever curious enough to seek the place out. Neville, he knew, visited once a year accompanied by his grandmother. He'd seen Clarissa Bones returning several times. Cho Chang had been once with the Diggory's, once alone, and had invited him to accompany her one other time. He'd refused, not yet ready for the experience. This time, he'd had no choice. This time the burden was his alone.

This was Hogwart's Hallows, the memorial place for all those who had attended Hogwarts and fallen in battle against the Dark. Their names, honored and respected names, names going back over a thousand years to Godric Gryffandor himself, were inscribed on the polished black obsidian of the central stone, the water eternally rippling over the incisions.

Harry walked to the stone, his footsteps sounding, to himself, in the stillness, loudly, though he walked on the lush grass. This was what he had refused to see before. Names. His parents names were there, two amongst many, as were the Longbottoms, and the Bones. Honored names.

Harry stepped closer, his eyes, and then his fingers, tracing the lists of names, lingering over his parents, noting others familiar to him, stopping at Cedric Diggory's. Cedric - dying alone; at least his parents had been together, as had Neville's and Clarissa's. All of them, though, had been honored in their lives, respected. They had left grieving families behind.

Harry leaned closer, looking for the newest additions, sighing softly as he found them. Reaching out with his forefinger he traced their names, slowly, sorrowfully.

Sirius F. Black

Remus J. Lupin ~~~~~~~

In the end, it hadn't been The Boy Who Survived, or the greatest living wizard who made the ultimate sacrifice, neither had it been Cornelius Fudge or any of his adherents at the Ministry of Magic.

When Hogwarts was attacked by Lord Voldemort and his followers, in an attempt to hold the school hostage and force the wizarding world to surrender, it was the despised former prisoner and the outcast werewolf who made the willing sacrifice that saved the school and all of its students.

Harry shuddered, remembering that afternoon a week ago. Late, it had been late, with the sun low on the horizon, as it was now, and with a sense of foreboding permeating the atmosphere. Dumbledore had once again been called to appear before the school governors - falsely as it turned out, and Lucius Malfoy had appeared to 'oversee' McGonagall and the 'correct running of the school'. In actual fact he had lowered the school's wards, allowing Voldemort to enter the grounds during the evening meal.

Even in London Dumbledore had known - the wards were keyed to the headmaster of the school - but by the time he'd made his way out the ministry and apparated to the gates of Hogwarts, everything was over.

The Dark Lord had made short work of the staff - Snape and McGonagall, deliberately the first to be targeted, had been thrown across the Hall to land against the wall like broken toys. The other's, including the woefully deficient DADA instructor, had been easily defeated using the simple expedient of threatening the children. Voldemort had singled Harry out, challenging him, again, to a duel.

It was into this standoff Remus and Sirius, on League business, but suspicious of anything which took Dumbledore away from the school unexpectedly, had arrived, unnoticed until they suddenly appeared at Harry's back.

Too late to interrupt or stop the duel, they had simply stepped behind him, standing shoulder to shoulder, each placing a hand on one of Harry's shoulders, and somehow, added their energy to his. The enormous surge in power had quickly changed the balance, forcing Voldemort, his wand visibly shaking and threatening to shatter from the power forced through it, to expend more and more of his stolen, blood-based power to overcome Harry.

Just when it seemed victory was ensured, Harry felt Remus falter, the powered ebbed, and the balance of battle once more shifted against them. Certain they would all be dying in the next few seconds, Harry had braced himself, searching within for any last remnants of unused power. He'd been surprised when he felt Remus and Sirius once again sending their power to him, and at a speed and magnitude far beyond what it had been previously. Voldemort's spells had been forced back into his wand which had exploded with the escaping energy, sending everyone nearby, friend and foe alike, into the blackness of unconsciousness.

He'd awakened later, much later, the sole patient of the infirmary, to find Dumbledore, as he had at other times, sitting quietly beside his bed, looking down at him gravely, sadness behind his eyes.

Harry hadn't bothered to ask about Sirius and Remus. He'd already known.

He'd learned later, when he was up and about, rested, and finally able to bear the hearing, from Ron and Hermione, that one of Voldemort's followers had attacked Remus with a silver knife. It was what had caused him to falter. Hermione had overheard Madame Pomfrey say that she was fairly certain Remus, in other circumstances, could have survived the attack if assisted immediately. As it was, life bonded to Sirius and power bonded to both Sirius and Harry, he'd had no chance, and only two choices - to go alone, or with Sirius. Sirius had made the decision for him, guaranteeing Harry's victory and survival, and freeing himself from years of mourning Remus.

Sirius had, in a poignant parody of passion, in the ultimate expression of love, grasped Remus with his free arm, pulling him tightly to his chest, and letting Remus' head fall back onto his shoulder.

Ron had, wonderingly, said they seemed to speak to each other, then Sirius pulled Remus face toward him, and kissed him. A brilliant silver and gold ball of light exploded around them, and then... nothing. Only Harry had seen Voldemort's end.

Bits and pieces of Voldemort and his followers scattered the front of the Great Hall. Harry was unharmed, as were the other students and the faculty, even the tables and chairs and wall hangings of the Great Hall.

Of Sirius and Remus, only their wands were found, and their rings.

Dumbledore called it 'Final Strike', what Sirius and Remus had done. The last gift, in an impossible situation, of their power and love. Very few wizards knew the spell, fewer could use it. Of those who knew it, only two others, in over a thousand years of recorded Wizard history had used it. It was a spell triggered by love and need, and somehow, intrinsically perhaps, it could not be used for simple suicide or kamikaze attacks. Somehow, the spell itself decided when and how it could be used.

That Sirius and Remus knew the spell surprised Dumbledore not at all. Neither did their use of it.

He did however grieve for them.

Harry and the headmaster stayed together, silently mourning two men they had both loved, and remembering others. ~~~~~~~

Harry brushed his finger one more time across the names before stepping back and removing his pack. He had one last task to perform.

Opening the pack, he removed a long, shallow, copper dish, two wands, and two rings - one true-silver, one gold. Stepping to the center of one long side, facing the cliff's edge, he placed the dish in the center of the oblong, and the wands and rings in the dish. Breathing deeply in an attempt to settle himself, he was startled to feel a hand on his shoulder.

"It's all right, Harry. It's only me."

Harry turned quickly to face the newcomer, somehow unsurprised to find him there.

Albus Dumbledore stood behind him, but not alone. Ranged behind him were a handful of others - Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, Hagrid, Madame Pomfrey.

Ron and Hermione.

Draco Malfoy.

Ginny. Blessed Ginny.

Those who had been closest, in mind and heart, to Sirius and Remus that day.

Those who would have tried, but failed, to save them.

They belonged here, if they wished to be.

"Harry."

Harry turned his gaze back to Dumbledore's.

"They're here because they want to be. Some because they loved them, some because they wish had, some because they wish to honor them, some because they need forgiveness, but we 'all', he emphasized, 'need' to be here."

Harry looked at him, earnestly, for several long moments, trying to absorb the depth of his words. Showing his acceptance by nodding his head, he turned back to his task.

The others moved to take places about the stone, close enough to each other to hold hands, but not doing so. Dumbledore moved to stand across from Harry, his back to the cliff, Hagrid to his right, Snape to his left. Ron took his place to Harry's right, Draco stepped into place at Harry's left. Madame Pomfrey stood at one end, facing Ginny and Hermione across the length of the stone.

Taking a deep breath once again, Harry swept his gaze around the circle, relieved and heartened by their evident support. He raised his hands to begin, but hearing unexpected noise behind him, he dropped his hands and turned to look for its' cause.

Unbelieving, Harry sought out first Dumbledore, then the faces of each of the other circle members, before once again turning toward the entrance to Hallows.

He simply could not believe the evidence of his eyes. Filing into the half circle, and forming another, living, half circle within it, were dozens of people. The rest of the faculty of Hogwarts, most of the Houses of Gryffandor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, even a half dozen of the younger Slytherins were there. His eyes found others, dear to his heart - Arthur and Molly Weasley,Fred and George, Charlie and Bill, Percy and Penelope. Further down the line were Mrs. Figg and other members of the League.The Diggory's stood next to shopkeepers from Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley. There were witches and wizards he did not recognize, but who were of an apparent age to have been at Hogwarts with Sirius and Remus.

Heart swelling at this evidence of caring, he continued down the half circle, recognizing old friends and...

Cornelius Fudge.

Harry stood still, hands shaking, disbelieving, torn with indignation at the presence of the Minister of Magic. So much could have been avoided if only this man, this self-serving coward, this... bigoted imbecile had only stood firm against evil and complacency. All the heartache and separation and rejection Sirius and Remus had been through, because this man...

"Harry."

He ignored his name.

"Harry!"

Harry turned blindly toward the voice. Draco?

"Don't ruin this, Harry. Don't make it into something it isn't. People change, Harry. Sometimes. Not often, but sometimes. I know this.

Sometimes, like me, in time to be useful. Sometimes, only when it seems too late. But, Harry, even if it is too late for Sirius and Remus, it's never too late for the future, for those come after. Leave him be. Leave him to his remorse. Let him mourn.

This is in their honor, what we do here, but it serves another purpose as well. This place helps us to remember, lest we forget, who they were, what they did, and why they did it. Even fools, Harry, can eventually learn, and remember. While the Hallows stand, they will be remembered."

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, searching deep with himself for an affirmation of the truth contained in Draco's words, then nodded his head. Draco was right. Turning fully toward the stone, he once more took his place. With a full circle, Remus and Sirius would at least receive the full memorial, something he could not have given them alone. He raised his hands and voice to begin.

"We are gathered here, this evening, in this Hallow, to honor the life and memory of two men ..."

~~~~~~~

Hours later, the others long since gone to their homes, the Godric's Hollow celebration postponed to the following night, Harry sat, alone, on the edge of the cliff edge, staring up at a perfect black velvet sky. Diamond stars shone against the black with a crisp clarity usually seen only at mid-winter. A full moon rode high above him, shining an impossible gold, instead of silver.

Harry mused upon the irony. Remus' first full moon without the wolf. He hoped wherever they were, they were enjoying it. He hoped they knew and understood how much they were loved, how much they were missed.

Draco had been right. People did change. It was too late for Sirius and Remus to enjoy those changes in life, but not too late for those who came after.

Cornelius Fudge had made it a point to look him in the eyes when he took his leave after the memorial. Harry had read sorrow and regret and shame on the Minister's face, but also resolve. Never again would Cornelius Fudge condemn without proof, nor would he ever again take the safe and easy way. Harry hoped Fudge would be successful in his ambition. The promised policy changes would come too late for Remus, but would benefit other werewolves, as would the promise to divert ministry funds toward looking for a cure for the bite, and making the Wolfsbane potion generally available.

Harry looked back over his shoulder at the memorial stone, no longer plain or adorned only by names and water, and smiled, sadly.

Sirius and Remus would be remembered for generations to come, for as long as the Hallows existed and wizards came here. They would be remembered, not for the improvement in the wizard's legal system, not for the changes in policy concerning werewolves, but for themselves, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, wizards, animagi and werewolf, lovers and mates.

In the moment Harry had chanted the words to burn their wands and melt their wedding bands, a great light, silver and gold, had blazed up from the copper dish, causing those closest to the stone, the working circle, to close their eyes. When they'd opened them, they'd all gasped in surprise.

Around the base of the memorial stone, repeated over and over, in chased true-silver and gold, was a gold wolf superimposed upon a silver star.

No, they would not be forgotten. Not while the Hallows existed, not while love endured.

"Rest, now" Harry whispered. "Rest in peace."

Slipping sideways against one of the large standing stones, he fell asleep. Nearby, a small wolf and large black dog, curled around each other, stood guard over him beneath a full moon.

The End


End file.
